Rescuing my inner child
Not sure how it started, but suddenly, I was surrounded by bonsai trees. I drove far to find new ones and took care of them in my free time. I sold most of them before going abroad. My mom kept the nicer ones, although they were all nice to me. I was in Asia for three years and saw many beautiful trees. I bought one, but it was never the same. I returned six years ago. The idea to get back into it has remained a desire in the back of my mind. This is very representative with a lot of other things in life. There is a long road between what we want and what we have. Or is there?
Recently, a friend of mine has been telling me about his farm. It´s pretty much all he talks about. He is over seventy. Working his land is actually breathing life into him as well. At one point I got all worked up, but I know myself. If you are familiar with the enneagram, I am a 7. If not, that basically means that I get excited about things easily. I tend to jump headfirst into things at the mere mention of them, even if my plate is full. Then I get bored easily which has left many projects abandoned along the way. I didn’t notice at the time, but there was something different about getting my hands dirty again.
There was a concrete slab in a corner of our yard. Demolishing it would be my ticket in. That would commit me to taking care of whatever I planted in there. I hardly scratched the surface with an extremely heavy pickaxe after an hour. I was sore all over and couldn’t even hold a fork after that. I might be an enthusiast who grows bored easily, but I am also hard-headed and obsessive. That same evening, I was driving back to the house with a jackhammer. After a week of chiseling at it for an hour or two each day, I finally reached the rebar only to find that there was an equally thick layer of cement under it. This translated to another week of shoveling and wheelbarrowing.
It felt that I was rescuing myself while uncovering the soil buried underneath the concrete. Long lost memories and surprising images from my childhood appeared along with the shards and blocks that were being chipped away and flying all over the place. It became apparent that this was about something more than just clearing a space for a vegetable garden. And at the same time, that is all it was. By looking inside, it became clear, or maybe consciously set the intention. On another level, the concrete represented the armor that protected me emotionally as a child. It had helped me survive for many years but was no longer serving me. It was concealing me from allowing me to love, be loved and enjoy fully. It was very trying, tiring and painful at times. But I did it with great enthusiasm and a smile on my face and my heart. Each flying pebble was an accomplishment and each falling chunk was liberating.
I made peace with my armor. I expressed my gratitude towards it. Have you read The Knight in Rusty Armor? For many years it was my best friend. It defined me and how I showed up in the world. The rebar was impressive. It represented the fine artisanship and hard work in the design and creation. It also dawned on me that it was a win-win situation. I was rescuing the dirt where I was going to grow life. I would teach my kids a different way. How to cultivate love for themselves and others. The dirt trapped under the concrete slab was my heart. But it wasn’t really trapped. I was actually holding on tight to its protection. The concrete was not lodged on or imposed on it. It was securely held. As liberating and long awaited as it was, there was also fear and vulnerability.
Plus, the last week came with many nauseating doubts. Being free to feel my feelings and live fully was exciting. But at the same time, I had no idea how to live without my armor. How was I to open my heart to love and be loved? I mean, cultivate the land, and tend for crops. I had closed myself off from the world for a reason and it worked. There seemed to be so many moving pieces. Quality of dirt, fertilizers, pests, sunlight, compost. The more I read, the more I wanted to pour new concrete and hide under it. I breathed, asked, and read a lot, but not as much as I breathed. I declared myself a beginner and that this first year would be for learning and having fun. There are many sayings about taking the first step. What happened that weekend really showed me they are very accurate.
I had not told anyone that one of my Saturday errands was to buy dirt. Right before jumping in the car, a stranger walked by and asked, “want some dirt?”. I thought to myself, “Yes, but how do you know?!”. It all felt so weird. I don’t think I asked a question. He must have responded to my blank face. Turns out he lives up the road and grows vegetables. He´d seen me with the wheelbarrow and figured I was up to the same. Not only did he return with my dirt, but he also brought tomato plants! I asked him a lot of questions while he helped me plant them. I took the first step (two weeks of hard labor) and here was my guide.
I received the message loud and clear. Someone or something had responded to my intention and action. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but it´s all working out. I already tasted the tomatoes from those first plants. Best tomatoes I´ve had in my life, by the way. The cherry tomatoes I planted from seeds have already sprouted. There are seven spinach vines growing at an impressive rate and the cucumbers have flowered. The whole yard looks a lot better with new flowers and plants indoors as well. My boys and wife are very excited and nurturing the plants and each other. By taking care of me and my inner child, I am also raising them in a different way. They are learning how to love themselves and others. Today, this seems like the most valuable lesson to learn together.
